


Lonely Hearts Anonymous

by staticfiction



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Anti-Valentine's Day Valentine Gone Wrong, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticfiction/pseuds/staticfiction
Summary: Because Valentine's Day is nothing but a capitalistic, consumeristic holiday preying on societal pressure to be in a relationship. It’s an evil, corporate invention and mankind mustn’t fall victim to the sham and mockery of humanity’s flawed desire to be in a relationship.Or, the one where Jae is a moon boy and is, in reality, an inner romantic at heart.





	Lonely Hearts Anonymous

At exactly six-thirty every Wednesday evening, Jae Park flips the sign on the door to say Closed though it will remain unlocked for another thirty minutes and that the store will remain in some form of non-shady legitimate business for another ninety minutes after that. Mr. Park’s Record Store (the aforementioned Mr. Park not a familial relation, as far as Jae is aware) operates until eight in the evening except on Wednesdays such as this, when Jae feels less like a store clerk and more like a watchman. Maybe even an orderly. The tiny bell above the door will tinkle, and one by one the Wednesday Regulars will come walking in. Like a secret club made up of people who typically are unlikely to interact with each other in the daytime, but nowhere near as exciting as any direction that backstory can snowflake into. Four months in, and Jae’s just about proved his point about the senior citizen’s mah-jong club getting more action than this.

Admittedly, the Wednesday Regulars are an interesting bunch comprised of a cast beset by various states of internal anguish seeking emotional support. That’s what Jae thinks they’re doing anyway. They’ve rented out the adjoining studio/practice room for support group or something.

Like: Emotions Anonymous.

Or better yet: Lonely Hearts Anonymous.

It’s just another one of those things, like a trend or an unpopular opinion most people conforming (pretending to conform) to society’s standards won’t really get until it happens to them. Jae reserves judgment until he’s out of the figurative woods. Besides, weird kids have to stick up for each other. One day it’ll be the Age of the Weird, and who else will the rule the world? That’s right. It’s the misfits like him who’ll survive the zombie apocalypse.

Predictably, the first one to arrive is Bob the Builder—sure he has a proper name and all that, but Jae’s hasn’t bothered to remember it. He’s the sort of guy who you meet and think,  _ ah your parents must be so proud of you. _ At first glance, you’d wonder what a guy like Bob is doing at a place like this—support group, not the record store—but after a moment, maybe two, it will all make sense. Jae will tell him he can go ahead and wait for the others inside, but Bob will pause in horror at the sight of disarray, then will ask, in sharp and pointed dialect, if Jae won’t mind if he tidied up a bit. Of course, Jae doesn’t mind. So Bob starts cleaning up. It’s not his job, but if Bob makes his job easier for him then Jae’s not about to complain about it.

While Bob is organizing the vinyl collections, Brian and Dowoon arrive if not at the same time then one after the other. Brian he knows because they frequent the live club gig circuit, not necessarily together but perhaps a duo had more chances than a solo act, but Jae digresses. Besides, they were both guitarists and one of them will have to switch if they were to go at it together so it may be for the best that they remain independent of each other. Anyway, Brian (stagename: Young K, but no one calls him that?) has a reputation for the saddest breakup songs and a fanbase of swooning girls. Jae’s not sure how to deal with that kind of attention. He’s not even sure if Brian deals with it at all.

Dowoon is a regular at the store, always looking at drumsticks, buying a new pair like clockwork every three months, and renting the drum kit every other Saturday. He doesn’t speak much, if at all. Jae’s had to communicate with him via a complicated game of charades and sometimes he’s not sure they understand each other but it’s the thought that counts. He’s done better since, speaking in one word sentences or in bursts of the most random shit Jae’s ever heard. So far, there is no in between.

Then there’s Wonpil. The first time Wonpil came to the store, he was wearing the most hideous pink argyle sweater Jae’s ever seen, arson seemed like a good career choice should the whole record store clerk thing not work out for him. God, Wonpil gave him a headache with his high-pitched laughter, and his aegyo, and just everything? If the zombie apocalypse were nigh, please God, don’t let him be stuck with Wonpil.

It’s a blessing Ayeon arrives only minutes after Wonpil. Ayeon is a lovely little thing, petite and bubbly, and is nice to Jae. Perhaps the only of them who actually speaks to him and asks how his day went. Sometimes she even brings him a donut from that patisserie she passes by on the way here. Of all the people in this support group, she’s probably the best equipped to be in The Real World.

Then there’s you. You, being the facilitator and founder of this little support group. Tonight you brought pizza and some drinks, as you’re wont to do. Food is always a good idea, and you’re never in lack of good ideas. As soon as you arrive, the whole group moves into the practice room and the hour begins. You’re somewhat of a mystery, still. Jae knows you, but only peripherally, only through your common friend Jimin (whose grandfather owns the store) who offered up the space to begin with. You acknowledge him with the bare minimum, he returns the gesture with a quirk of his brows and that’s it.

Jae waits outside until it’s over and, after everyone’s left, closes up shop. Then he goes home and pretends not to think of you.

***

Your first impression of Jae includes thinking about how pretentious his tortoise-shell glasses make him look and wondering how much effort he puts into his artistically disheveled hair. Mr. Park’s Record Store is not your first choice to hold these weekly meetings in, but Jimin owed you a favor so now the space is free for you to use. Never mind that it’s technically a rehearsal space for bands, or that it smells like old wood and lacquer and some kind of mold scientists have probably not discovered yet. The whole kitschy, hipster thing isn’t very on-brand with what you’re trying to achieve here either. But, you have to admit, in a society full of fake-philosophical, faux-individualistic, and mainstream-nonconformity, there’s something genuine and earnest about Mr. Park’s Record Store, odd it may be.

Sincerity and authenticity—now those are definitely two things you’re trying to achieve.

The support group is bitter, as expected. Every Wednesday since you started, it’s been heartbreak after heartbreak, frustration after frustration, and hopelessness in ever making a breakthrough. The six of you sit in a circle in the middle of the studio, introduce yourselves yet again, and listen to each other complain about how difficult it is to make a connection in this fast-paced superficial world. You go first as usual, stating your name as you prefer to be called and the current state of whatever it is you’re going through.

Then it goes like this around the room:

“My name is Park Sungjin. There’s nothing wrong with me—really, there isn’t—I’m just here because a friend made me go.”

“I’m Brian—no, it’s Young K and I’m addicted to heartbreak and writing breakup songs.”

“I am drum.”

“My name is Baek Ayeon, and I’m not attracted to anyone. I can’t seem to fall in love?”

“Hi! My name is Kim Wonpil!”

That’s the gist of it, more or less. You’re still not sure what Wonpil is doing here and he hasn’t talked about what he’s going through, but far be it from you to kick someone out. Besides, only Sungjin seems to mind having Wonpil around; the rest of the group have no complaints. In a majority-wins ruling, Sungjin’s vote is insignificant.

“Valentine’s Day is in three weeks,” you begin. “It’s going to be an extra difficult time for us. But remember, it’s nothing but a capitalistic, consumeristic holiday preying on societal pressure to be in a relationship. It’s an evil, corporate invention. We mustn’t fall victim to the sham and mockery of humanity’s flawed desire to be in a relationship.”

Murmurs of agreement buzz around the room. Cold wave notwithstanding, it’s going to be an extra cold 14 th of February. Not that any of your previous February Fourteens have been any different. Better to treat it as any other Wednesday night than to worry about whether or not you’re going out and if you’re going out with friends or, god-forbid, all alone. Best to stay at home and binge movies all night in your pyjamas. Food is good. Food will never betray you. Pizza, now that’s a solid and stable relationship.

Brian begins sharing. Something about this song he wrote about a girl he’s never going to talk to. As usual, she has already broken his heart though they’ve never even met—there’s more waxing poetic but you tune out the moment you hear the door creak open.

It’s not unusual for Jae to walk into these meetings. Support group takes up the time he has for cleaning and closing up shop, you let him wander around doing whatever he needs to do while the group is in session. He doesn’t bother anyone, except maybe you. But…that’s a different matter entirely. It’s not like he does anything. He’s just  _ there _ , all gangly and loose at the joints. Breathing.  _ Existing _ .

Tonight however, Jae is looking at you.

He’s standing near the amps, ticking off check boxes on his clipboard and  _ looking _ at you.

Suddenly conscious—partly for being caught looking at him, and partly because you can’t remember if you bothered to even brush your hair after work today—you make a mental inventory of yourself: your face, your hair, what you’re wearing. You’re fine, but any reassuring thought you have dissipates in the novelty of the experience. You cut a glance to him and his eyes are still on you.

Then he flicks his brows and grins.

It occurs to you then why people in books are always releasing breaths they didn’t realize they were holding in.

Fortunately for you, Jae doesn’t stay long. After he’s done whatever he came to do he goes back to the storefront and does whatever he does while waiting for the hour to end. You try, and fail, not to think about the implications of that moment if it can even be called as such. What are you even stressing for? It’s just Jae?

At the end of the night, you find him lounging back on a chair, guitar propped against his chest, and playing something that sounds a lot like your favorite band. The one  _ not _ from this decade. Or even from the past four. It’s a little unnerving but it shouldn’t be surprising. The record store isn’t known for its updated collection of Billboard Top Hits. The inventory is eclectic, a matter of personal taste instead of pattern or purpose or theme.

“So what exactly are you trying to achieve here?” he asks after Ayeon walks out the door. No one ever lingers on goodbyes.

You wait for the tinkle of the bell to fade away before considering his question. Usually, you’re the last to leave. Usually in peace and without unnecessary conversation. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say. “It’s…we’re just a bunch of people meeting every Wednesday. Like a common niche interest club.”

“So like support group?”

The word sends a shudder down your spine. “No. Not like that.”

“So you’re not trying to fix them?”

“I’m not fixing anything.”

His eyes narrow at you—have his glasses always been perched so precariously low on his nose? Are they actual prescription glasses? “Are you even qualified to do that?”

You return the accusing glare. “I’m not fixing anything! We’re just a group of people meeting up for an hour every Wednesday night to discuss our common grievances.”

“So you just sit there? And talk about your feelings?”

You nod, feeling rather smug and confident despite the offense. “In a safe and judgment-free zone.” You, of all people, understand how difficult such a thing is to come by. Guys like Jae probably never felt this way.

“Right.” He nods and continues playing. “More power to you, then.”

***

Jae likes his job. As a political science graduate, it may not offer much in the way of legitimizing his resume, but it made sense in the context of wanting a future doing music. That being said, the perks, so far, are unparalleled. Sure, he’s not getting paid enough to afford him a lobster dinner every night—not even every month—but he gets to be around music all the time. Furthermore, he gets to have little field trips across town to deliver/acquire items of interest.

This is how he finds you the following Wednesday afternoon. You’re not at work or whatever it is that you do because you’re clearly in the middle of something else. Something that piques his interest, he can’t help himself.

He walks up to you, while your back turned to him and your attention focused on the coffee shop across the street. “What are you doing?”

Jae doesn’t bother stifling a laugh when you jump at the sound of his voice. That’s when something weird happens. You look into his eyes. They grow wide in recognition and fill with a sense of annoyance but also confusion. Jae expects you to sneer at him, or something akin to wishing him elsewhere. The usual reaction to his presence. But then your eyes flicker with an amusement that has him wondering if anyone’s ever looked at him like someone’s seen beyond the glasses. Someone who sees and thinks there’s more to him than he thinks, that he’s worth a second look, a second chance. He feels a strange lump in his throat and an unfamiliar thump in his chest.

_ How dreadful _ .

“You startled me.”

For a split-second Jae’s brain freezes before jumping back to a start. “What are you doing here?” Not that he would know where else you should be. Such a strange feeling it is, seeing you outside the confines of your normal interactions.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and nod toward the café. “Sungjin said he’s not coming to support group anymore. He sent a formal email and everything. He didn’t say why and I didn’t ask but…”

“Sungjin? Oh, Bob. Why would he send a formal email?”

“I know! That was so unnecessary…but appreciated. Actually, that was really decent of him. Some people just disappear from your life without warning and without explanation. As if you don’t deserve a damn good reason to be left behind like that.”

Jae doesn’t dwell on that, doesn’t want to open up a can of figurative worms he has no intention of using as bait. There’s an analogy there somewhere, a better use of words to make better sense of what he means. But if he acknowledges even the bare minimum, it will only lead to roads not meant for him to take.

“So what are you doing here?” he asks.

“I’m not here on purpose,” you answer. “I was walking and then I just…I wasn’t…I’m not—”

Jae looks up as a pair exits the coffee shop. They’re together, at the very least in the sense that they are acquainted with each other and are at the same place at the same time by conscious choice. Other than that, it’s hard to tell from their dynamic if there could be something more. “Is that?”

“Look…I just…”

“Are you stalking Bob to find out why left support group?”

“No!” you grab him by the shoulders and push him backwards before you’re caught where you shouldn’t be seen. “That’s not—”

Laughing, Jae lets you push him back to a stone bench next to the playground. “I can’t believe Bob the Builder got himself a statistically significant other.”

“I don’t think that’s what it is,” you mutter, taking a seat next to him. “Or anyway not yet. I’m not sure about statistically significant, but it does seem to be the case.”

“What’s he doing in support group anyway?”

“Stop saying it that way!”

He spies a faint blush on your cheeks. “Saying what in what way?”

“Support group. It’s…it’s just…Wednesday nights, okay?”

“Sure. So Bob, who I assume has difficulty in the relationship department, finally got himself a special someone. You’re not happy for him? Is that not what you’re doing in your little club?”

You sigh deeply. “It’s not that I’m not happy for him. I am. I really, truly, am. He’s finally opening up and not acting so damn  _ tsundere _ all the time. At least, I hope not? It’s just…”

“You know what,” Jae says, turning away and looking up at the sky through the canopy of trees. “Forget it. It’s none of my business.”

But in his heart, he wants to know everything. Be a part of something. He loves his job, but all day and all night it’s just him and the rare customer coming in to browse. Jae loves these field trips because it gets him out of the store and outside where there are people. To interact with.

“Without Sungjin, Wednesdays are going to be a little less...funny.”

Jae thinks there’s another word you meant to use, but like you he’s not about to acknowledge the word ever existing. “Maybe if you rename your club you can get him to come back.”

You laugh, and it’s nothing like the sound of the bell at the record store but Jae thinks of it anyway. Now he’ll think of you every time, as if he doesn’t already. As if at every tinkle of that bell, a small part of him isn’t hoping it will be you coming through that door. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

_ I’m used to it _ , it sounded like.

His fingers curl into his hands and he glances away. How dreadful it is, of all things, to find company in misery. Yet he can’t judge you, not when he knows exactly what it feels like. To be so lonely, anyone would do.

“I don’t really have friends.” You say it so quietly, Jae doesn’t register the admission at first. “That’s why I set up the group. At first, I was just being facetious and bitter and whatever. So many holidays and I was just…I guess…you know. So I thought…I can’t be the only one who must feel this way. I was all alone and you know, food is a good bribe and I guess…when you don’t have friends...”

“Well, now that’s just offensive,” Jae says, leaning closer to nudge your shoulder with his. “After all this time? What am  _ I _ supposed to be then?”

A smile breaks on your face and you cover it up with a curl of your lip. “A…casual acquaintance?”

“Is  _ that _ what they’re calling it these day?”

You can’t help but laugh with him, and Jae thinks to himself:  _ Oh, no. That’s it. _

_ Game. _

_ Over. _

***

Brian and Ayeon are the next to leave. Together. Together-together.

“Look at it this way,” Jae says, half-sitting on the aisle display table. “At the rate you’re going, your Lonely Hearts Anonymous is successful. In a manner of speaking.”

One week later and it’s just you, Dowoon and Wonpil now. And Jae, though you’re not sure why he’s here. Here-here. With the three of you. In the same space at the same time. You’ve relocated to the main lobby. No point in staying at the studio now. The news of Brian and Ayeon still came as a surprise when Dowoon shared the news. It’s good news. It’s  _ great _ news. Yet in your heart, you can’t fully be happy for them and support them and you hate that you feel this way. You know you should be happy for them and wish them well, but you just  _ can’t _ . The black hole in your chest is growing, eating away at what happiness happens to pass by your way.

“They want to personally thank you, by the way,” says Wonpil. They’re helping Jae cut out red paper hearts for the shop’s window display. And by helping, they’re doing all the work while Jae watches. “If not for you they wouldn’t have met, figured out their issues and worked through it. I saw them together the other day, they’re so cute.”

You nod, not sure how to respond. Maybe years from now, you’ll laugh at how this plan of yours had magnificently backfired, but not today. Today you grumble and complain about the old love songs Jae’s been playing all night long.

“Sinatra is a classic,” he says wagging a finger at you, “Don’t start turning into Oscar the Grouch on me now.”

Furry personifications of garbage bins inside actual garbage bins aside, you scowl at Jae and stick your tongue out. Real mature.

Then Jae grabs a handful of red paper hearts (ignoring Wonpil’s protests) and throws them at your face. “Shazam! Did that work? Are you all fluffy and sweet now?”

You spit out a paper heart that clung to your lips. “I am going to murder you.”

Jae laughs and backs away until he’s behind the aisle display. “You’re gonna have to catch me first, and I’m warning you I’m like The Flash.”

You’re too lazy to actually move around so you do more of your scowling and glaring and Jae continues to dazzle you with his smile and wit. It’s just so unfair how—without even trying—easy it is for him to charm his way into spaces he’s not allowed. Without you realizing it, he’s just there like a weed persisting, thriving in the cracks on the concrete. Beautiful, because it doesn’t know it’s not supposed to be there.

The minutes turn into the hour, and you don’t even notice what with Jae and Wonpil throwing insults at each other and arguing like the best friends you just know they’ll end up being by the end of whatever phase they’re at now. Dowoon is the first to stand up, to bundle up in his coat and make the move to leave. You’re all creatures of habit, so it seems.

You hate this part. When it’s time to leave and the noise you surround yourself with fades into the echoing silence of your solitude. As Dowoon and Wonpil head out the door, you look up and that’s when you see it.

Wonpil gazes at Dowoon with a look that isn’t simply fondness. Your heart clenches in envy. That’s it. That’s always been what it was. You’re bitter and envious because you’re all alone. No one to look at you like the sun is something you crafted out of paper, glue, and glitter and hung in the sky for them to look at.

“You know they’re next, right?” Jae says, sidling next to where you’re leaning against the counter. He’s warm—strange you’d think he wouldn’t be. And he smells like…like…he smells like  _ boy _ .

“I’ve been trying to figure out why Wonpil comes to these things and now I think I just got my answer.”

Jae chuckles to himself. “Pray, do tell, how in the name of all that is glorious in this God-given Earth does the lot of you complaining about Valentine’s Day and all that get a valentine. With each other. More or less.”

You shrug, looking up and away so he doesn’t see. This is the worst. Yet again, you’re all alone. Somehow, it always ends up like this. Just when you think you’ve found a place to belong that’s when reality kicks in.

“We’re only complaining about the day. Holidays in general can be difficult. That’s...that’s fine. That’s a real thing. Out there, some people just don’t get that. So here we are. I didn’t think this would happen, you know.”

There’s that lump in your throat again. Damn.

“So…” Jae begins, “you headed home?”

“I don’t know…” The last thing you want is to come home to your studio apartment and lie awake in your single bed and stare at the ceiling. “Do... _ you _ have plans?”

He shrugs. “Wanna go to the roof?”

“It’s freezing out.”

“Hey. You asked, I answered.”

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“It’s freezing out. But sure.”

You’ve walked this road more times than you’re willing to admit, yet tonight the air seems different. Lighter. You’re breathing easier. The harsh lights from the streetlamps are a softer hue, a mellow yellow that reminds you of sunrise views from mountain peaks. Jae walks in step with you, left-right-left-right, arms swinging next to each other, the backs of your hands touching every other step but only just so.

“Look at us,” you say, “all alone with nothing but the cold night wind to keep up company. Do you ever feel that way? Like you have nothing else but the moon to look at, hoping it looks back at you.”

“Ouch. I’m literally right here.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course, I know what you mean,” he says softly. So soft, it’s unnerving. Jae’s always been weird and loud—not volume loud, just  _ loud _ . “Everyone feels that way.  _ Everyone _ . Every single person on this planet has felt that way. It’s part of the human condition. There’s nothing punk rock about loneliness. Everyone knows loneliness. It’s okay, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. You just...accept it. That’s a thing, right? Acknowledgment is always the first step.”

“Punk rock, huh.”

“I’m not saying you don’t have a right to feel that way or that no one should feel that way or that we should just disregard the notion of it. What I mean is, you know, loneliness just  _ is _ . And that, I guess, in times of unimaginable loneliness or on those days you’re in a breaking things kind of mood, you just gotta breathe. Like,  _ breathe _ .

“It’s gonna feel a lot like jumping off a cliff” he continues, “and when you do it’s like waiting for someone to show up and catch you. But you’re gonna have to go at it on your own because, how else, right? You can’t be someone for someone else without knowing how to be someone for yourself—am I making sense right now?”

You look up at the gleam in his eyes. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other, it’s a lot to take in. “You’re gonna have to say that again.”

“So, what I mean is: It sucks when you realize that, sometimes, you’re going to have to  _ not _ find a shoulder to lean on just so you can get through this with some semblance of self. Because that’s just how it is. That’s how you arrive at a breakthrough.”

Some people are like the sun and some people are like the moon. Jae is a moon. He’s the kind of boy who pickpockets light from the sun’s back pocket to shine on those who thrive in the dark.

“It doesn’t happen all at once. You don’t just wake up and everything’s rainbows and unicorns—now that’s a morning I’d love to wake up to. That’s the real punk rock you know? Not all this  _ argh angry anarchy _ . I, for one, believe that the real revolution here is to Be Kind. My grand-dad always did say—”

“Jae, your breakthrough?”

“Right. Breakthrough. It’s a long process. You  _ become _ . People are weird, some break easily or have sharp edges or have to be carefully kept and it’s hard, you know? It’s hard  _ becoming _ . But that’s how you go through life and not give up being alive.”

“And when you finally become, that’s when you go out into the world and be ready for peopleing?”

He laughs. “Nah, that’ll take forever and you’ll never find someone. But, you know, it’s part of the process. You gotta multi-task. You just gotta try. You have to try. You can’t wait to become or wait for your breakthrough. You just have to find joy? Fill your life with what makes you happy and try. Make room for joy. You have to try.”

“Seems like sound reasoning, not gonna lie.” Of all things, you had not expected Jae Park to give you tips on how to be a person. “That’s what they did. They tried.”

Everyone else arrived at a breakthrough except for you.

“Speaking of trying.” He clears his throat.

You look up at him, at the halo of light from the streetlamps behind him. “Hmm?”

“So now that your lonely single friends have paired up and are no longer lonely, I guess this means your Wednesday nights are free?”

“I guess they are.”

“So…” Silence hangs thick in the air, filling your lungs with a sense of what if. “You wanna go out with me?”

“What?” It feels like the anti-thesis to everything you’ve been trying to prove. You don’t need anyone. You’re fine on your own. Loneliness? Please, you’re a strong independent individual who is capable of all the emotional support and validation all on your own.

It feels wrong. To accept his offer because what if you’re both just finding an easy way out of this bone-deep loneliness? What if you’re just buying into all this capitalism and consumerism and falling prey to society’s unjust discrimination against singleness.

And yet…

“I’m serious. Do you want to go out with me? Like on a date. A date-date.”

You laugh, despite yourself. “I’m gonna have to try, eventually.”

***

You always did wonder what is it about Mr. Park’s that feels like home, and you think maybe because the store is a lot like Jae in the way he’s not really trying to be anything but himself. The store is filled with what it loves and it’s not ashamed to simply just be.

“Roll out the red carpet, peasants!”

You’ve led yourself to believe that the only thing you’re good at is being sad and alone, but looking at the room now you see you’ve never been? The practice room is filled with red balloon hearts and pink streamers haphazardly strewn across the ceiling. There’s pizza and chicken and drinks, and cake and ice cream, and all your friends are in their usual places talking amongst themselves and just having fun. Sungjin’s picked up a guitar and Wonpil and Ayeon are singing and Dowoon’s waddling over with a cajon in his arms. Brian is busy stuffing his face with food and feeding anyone who’d take his offer. Sungjin’s date is here too, taking photos with their polaroid, collecting evidence that this day is real. This is happening.

“You did this,” you say, breath uneven and raggedly pretending not to be.

“What? What do you mean? Why would I, Jae H. Park, some casual acquaintance of yours who just happens to be Nightwatch of Mr. Park’s Record Store, contact the founding members of common niche interest club Lonely Hearts Anonymous who have since paired off and are thus no longer lonely to spend Valentine’s Day at your usual Dungeon of Bitterness and Despair but this time as couples who are friends with other couples? Now why would I put together all the things that give you joy? Why would  _ I _ go do such a thing?”

You shove him, and he bounces right back so his arm is against your arm. “I can’t believe they actually came?”

“Of course they’d come,” Jae answers. “You brought them together. You let them be themselves and gave them a nice safe space and they found people who like them just as they are. Why wouldn’t they fall in love with you?”

“They?”

“They,” he says, scratching the back of his ear and pointedly glancing away. “Yeah. All of them…”

You smile to yourself, unsure what to do with all these warm and fuzzy feelings.

“You know.” Jae pushes his glasses up his face. “Fall in love. In a platonic kind of way. That’s a thing, you know.”

“With me?”

He tilts his head, eyes finding yours. “With you.”

Breathe, you tell yourself.

“If you’re gonna cry,” Jae says, interrupting your thoughts. “The Designated Crying Area is over here.” He spreads his arms for a hug.

You fall into him the same way you fall for him, without you even knowing it’s already happening.

“You’re gonna need a new name for this support group of yours. Might I humbly suggest Wonpil’s Pink Sweater Is Ugly Social Club?”

“It’s  _ not _ support group. And, no. Just. No.”

“What about Lonely Hearts Anonymous Moved On. LHAMO.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

“Well, you know,” you release yourself from his embrace, just enough to look him in the eyes. “We could just be a bunch of people who hang out from time to time. I believe the politically correct terminology is friends.”

“What about more-than-friends who are friends with other people who also are under the more-than-friends category?”

“Can you abbreviate that?”

“Good point. We could always just go back to casual acquaintances.”

You laugh then, and think there’s no going back now. Not when the black hole in your chest is finally beating. “We have time,” you say, breaking away from him to take his hand and join the others. “We have time to figure this out.”

Because you’re not alone anymore and you’re going anywhere.

  
  



End file.
